


Another Love Of Mine

by maxsaystowrite



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alforan - Freeform, F/M, M/M, OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxsaystowrite/pseuds/maxsaystowrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were King and Advisor. They were Paladins. They were friends. Coran always knew he would be loyal to his king, he never thought he would fall in love with him, raise his daughter, be the last of his subjects. Loyalty and promises never fade. And love strikes more than once for some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Love Of Mine

“Alfor,” His father called, voice booming throughout the training hall. Alfor looked up from his duel with his training partner. He was breathing heavily and he jumped, giving his partner an opportunity to disarm him. He didn't, of course. One does not disarm the crown prince while he is distracted. “Alfor, it's time to meet your future council.”

 

Alfor slipped his sword back into its sheath and stood up straight. “I'll be there soon, thank you Father.”

 

The king rose an eyebrow. “Alfor if I thought you would actually go I would have sent a servant,” He entered further into the hall. “I need you to be in attendance and I will see you there.”

 

“Am I to go in my training clothes?” 

 

“I had Chandra bring you a more… appropriate garment.” 

 

Chandra, the king's loyal assistant, shuffled in with a light blue pile of clothing, , his crest embroidered in yellow. She presented them to him. He took them carefully. “Thank you, Chandra,” Alfor looked at his partner. “And thank you, Vee. You're dismissed for today.” 

 

They both bowed and exited. The king, however, did not. 

 

“You're going to watch me dress?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Alfor flushed and redressed with his back to his father. 

 

“I'm not a child, you know.” 

 

“I will believe that when you start acting like an heir.”

 

Alfor decided not to fight with his father as he pinned his cape and straightened out his shirt. There were very few subjects they could talk freely to one another about. Alfor being a fit heir was not one of them. But as the only heir, he had to be fit.

 

“Good. Now, let’s meet your council. We’re already late.”

 

Alfor rolled his eyes as he left the training hall, walking side by side with his father. “I’m sorry I don’t have a Chandra to tell me what to do every tick of every day,” he watched his father and tried to mimic his movements and posture. Something else on the long list of things they didn’t have in common; the king had a natural aura about him that commanded a weight in whatever room he was in. Alfor had no such aura, no such presence. “I lose track of time too easily.”

 

The king’s mouth curled up in a knowing smile. It made Alfor uneasy, though there was no time to question. They arrived at the meeting room, the doors were opened for them by servants who bowed when they passed. The members of the council stood from their seats when the royal family entered. Alfor and his father walked around the table of terrified looking teens and their mentors to the two heads of the table. They sat, and the room sat.

 

“I apologise for our lateness,” The King said. “We were held up by a matter in the hallway. It will not happen again.” He took responsibility - no one would question the king’s word. “Let us commence with the introductions.”

 

There were a multitude of positions on the council. Most were positions that would serve Alfor. Others were to advise him, such as an Architecture Advisor, a mousy young man by the name of Jace with large round glasses. He couldn’t have been more than 16 years old. He shook as he introduced himself. His mentor, the current Architecture Advisor, was beaming as he told Alfor his plans for the future of the kingdom.

 

“In the years you rule, I devote my loyalty, to you only you.” He said, the only thing that came out of his mouth that wasn’t a stutter. The haiku was a traditional phrase said by new members of a King’s court. It may have been common, but it was binding, a verbal contract with countless witnesses. 

 

Jace bowed to Alfor and sat down. The next person to stand was a cold looking young man: his features were severe, even his bored expression looked as if he was furious. He introduced himself.

 

“My name is Zarkon. I am the apprentice of my father, General Kaplan, the Military Advisor. I have been going over our current strategies and I have found many ways to improve our defense and offense.”

 

Alfor shifted.  _ Offense? Do we really need to be prepared for war? _

 

Zarkon began to sit when General Kaplan cleared his throat. 

 

“Ah, right.” Zarkon stood up straight again and cleared his own throat. “In the years you rule, I devote my loyalty, to you only you.” The poem felt rushed and insincere. Alfor had the impulse to make him do it over again. But the king did not falter, so neither should he. Zarkon sat, undisturbed by his subpar poem. 

 

Alfor watched Zarkon for the rest of the introduction. Zarkon had the composure of his father, no expression was made. Alfor wished he could read his mind. It would put him at ease to know what went through his mind. 

 

“Thank you all for coming,” The King said, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “I appreciate you all taking time out of your training to present yourselves. You may all return to your quarters now.”

 

In sync, they all rose, bowed, and left. Alfor watched each person leave. When the doors closed he physically relaxed, sighing deeply. “They’re going to be my council? I think the kingdom is going to be in great hands in a few decades.”

 

Alfor was able to make his father smile. “They’re good people. They’ll serve you well.”

 

He stood, raising his arms above his head and stretching, cracking his back in the process. “Well, I have to catch up on my language lesson. Villesen is getting harder by the day.”

 

“Not so fast,” The King said. “You have one more person to meet.”

 

“Who could I possibly need to meet? I’ve met every position, no one's left.”

 

The King rose. “Chandra.”

 

“Chandra?” Alfor looked towards the servant’s entrance. Chandra came into the room with someone trailing behind her. He looked exactly like her, orange hair and light, violet eyes. The only difference was the highlights under their eyes. Chandra had a soft pink while his glowed blue.

 

They both bowed to Alfor as they came closer. “Prince Alfor, this is my nephew, Coran. I’ve been training him to take over my position as the King’s Advisor once you’ve taken the throne.”

 

“It’s a honor to finally meet you, my prince.” Coran said, coming up from his bow. A chill ran down Alfor’s spine as they made eye contact.

 

“The honor is all mine,” He held his hand out for Coran to shake; he did. “I look forward to your help in the future.”

 

Coran’s eyes shifted to Chandra, confused. “I’m sorry, sir, I was under the impression that I was starting today.”

 

“You are, Coran,” The King said from his seat. “I thought I would give you as a surprise.”

 

Coran cringed, looking to the ground. Alfor’s hands tightened into fists.

 

“Father, you can’t  _ give people _ as surprises.”

 

“I don’t see why not.”

 

“Because they’re people and cannot be given.” 

 

The King shrugged and stood from his seat. “If you say so,” His eyes cut to Chandra. “Come, Chandra, let’s leave them to get acquainted.” They left the room in a silent sweep. The door clicked behind them.

 

Both Coran and Alfor sighed.

 

They tried to speak at once.

 

“I’m sorry-”

 

“Thank you-”

 

“Please, Your Highness, you speak first.”

 

Alfor took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for my father… He doesn’t exactly hold servants in the best light,” A pain hit Alfor in the chest. “Even his most trusted… like your aunt. I’m sorry…”

 

“There is no need to apologise for the King’s behaviour…. I won’t judge you for his actions. You are not your father.”

 

There was a heavy silence. 

 

“So, what specifically are your duties as my personal advisor? I seem to have all my bases covered by my council.”

 

Coran perked up, smiling and bouncing on his toes as he spoke. “I am all of those advisors rolled into one! I am trained in military strategies and the latest technology. I tend to you personally. And, if you trust me, I am your greatest confidant.” 

 

He knelt, balancing himself on one knee, and bowing his head. “My family has been serving yours for generations. Nothing makes me prouder than pledging my loyalty to you, my king.”

 

Alfor flushed as he watched Coran. “I’m no king. I’m just the prince.”

 

“Alfor, you are my king,” Coran took a breath in. “Despite your title at this moment… You are  _ my  _ king. I will serve you to the best of my abilities. I will remain loyal to you till the end of my days.”

 

Alfor watched him, they were both still. The past few hours, countless people were pledging their loyalty to him. Well, their future loyalty. Their speeches, their pledges, were scripted and rehearsed. Some did have vigor and excitement behind them, but none of them compared to the impromptu oath that Coran had delivered. Alfor, so moved by just his words, almost felt tears in his eyes.

 

“Stand, Coran.” 

 

Coran looked up from his position. “Sorry, sir?”

 

“Please stand up, Coran.”

 

He did as he was told and stood up straight. They were almost the same height.  Almost. Alfor had a few inches on Coran. 

 

Alfor bowed his head slightly. “Coran, you will be by my side for the rest of our lives. I promise to respect you as much as you respect me… And to appreciate you for all you’ll do for me.”

 

Coran flushed, his face burning and his smile brimming. “Thank you, sir.”

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Sir, it’s time,” Coran said, entering the Prince’s chambers. He was the only one allowed to do so without knocking. “The Lions should be ready to choose any tick now.”

 

Alfor had be staring at himself in the mirror. Every King before him was once a Paladin. There was a gravity in this ritual, the passing down of the duty. The Lions pick their Paladins, someone worthy of their power. The Lions may pick whoever they want. What if they didn’t pick him?

 

“Coran, how do you think the people would react if I wasn’t a Paladin?”

 

“What do you mean, sir?” He asked.

 

“I mean, what if I’m not worthy of being chosen by a Lion? My father was, and his father before him. This planet has never had a king that was not a Paladin. What if I’m the first?” Alfor said this to the him in the mirror, he couldn’t look away from his own face, studying every line and detail. Alfor didn’t know what would change in the hours to come. He wanted a prominent memory of who he was before.

 

Coran smiled, shy and unsure, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Alfor, don’t worry about it,” He looked up at him, trying to catch his eye. Alfor didn’t look back. Coran admired the harsh lines that constructed Alfor’s young face. “You say your entire line have been Paladins? Well! Then! There is nothing to fear! You’ll be chosen by your Lion! And you’ll be the best Paladin ever!”

 

Alfor’s gaze shifted to Coran in the mirror. His face was stretched into a huge smile and the light in his eyes was reassuring. Calm washed over Alfor, extinguishing his anxiety. Coran made him calm, Coran put him at ease. Alfor relaxed into his hand, turning to face him, smiling almost as wide as Coran was.

 

“You’re right!” Alfor let out a bark like laugh and wrapped his arms around Coran tightly. “What would I ever do without your wisdom?” It was almost a whisper in his ear. A chill ran down Coran’s spine as he hugged Alfor back. He tried not to breath in the intimate space they shared; he tried not to give Alfor a reason to break away.

 

But they had to, everyone was waiting. 

 

They parted, smiling at each other. Alfor pat him on the shoulders before embarking on his future. He had a wide stride, confidently taking one huge step after another. Coran had learned to keep up with him. His shoulders were broad and his head was up. Alfor had grown so much in the few years Coran had known him. When they met, they were both unsure teenagers. Now they were men, Alfor a year away from being eligible to take the throne. Layer after layer of responsibility will fall on his shoulders and he is ready to take in stride. 

 

The arena was a short walk from the castle. As they walked in through the gates, the crowd cheered, they had been waiting for them. 

 

“And now we can _ finally _ begin the ceremony!” The King cried. The crowd roared. The king leaned over to whisper in Alfor’s ear. “I hope, when you’re king, you learn how to arrive on time.” His tone was grave and stern. He was wearing the Paladin suit for the black Lion, the suit of a leader. When the King turned back to the crowd he smiled a charming smile, giving no hint that he was furious with his son.

 

The King raised his arms. “Release the Lions!” 

 

A line of doors opened, allowing the Lions to wander out on their own accord. The first to come out was, in fact, the black Lion. She immediately made her way to the king and bowed her head in front of him. The King bowed back as a sign of respect then relinquished his bayard to her. 

 

“My old friend… It’s time for you to find your new Paladin.” The bayard disappeared within her mouth as she stood up straight, scanning the crowd.

 

Alfor’s chest swelled and watched the Lion with a small smile. She should choose him. He is the heir, he should lead Voltron. She continued to look around, then, suddenly, she turned her head and locked eyes with Alfor.

 

His heart stopped. This is it. This is the moment. She will choose him. She will put all of his fears aside. They will become as close as King and Black Lion should. 

 

She walked towards him.

 

This was it.

 

She was halfway to him. She’s choosing him.

 

She deviates. 

 

Their gaze breaks. Her head turns her left. 

 

She goes left.

 

She bows.

 

Zarkon bows back.

 

Alfor’s eyes burned, he felt his stomach drop to the floor. He blinked away the tears as quickly as possible, they were all watching him. They should be watching the exchange of helmet from former Paladin to new Paladin, but they weren’t. They were watching Alfor. He was supposed to be the Black Lion’s Paladin, and they all knew it.

 

The King shook Zarkon’s hand and turned away from him. His gaze piercing through Alfor. His disappointment was painted all over his face.

 

Alfor felt something by his ear, then heard a whisper. “Don’t worry, there are four more Lions. One of them is yours.”

 

Two more Lions made their way out, Red and Green. The Red Lion picked a strong Galran warrior named Lori. She howled in excitement when the Red Lion bowed in front of her.  The Green Lion picked a tall creature with violet eyes named Vamaal. She smiled through her thick black fur and bowed back to the Green Lion.

 

The Blue Lion came from the far left door. She stretched before looking around the arena. She trotted over her former Paladin and reluctantly took the bayard back. She took her time moving from him. The Blue Lion seemed to wander aimlessly, occasionally looking into the crowd for a potential Paladin.

 

Her gaze turned to Alfor’s direction. There wasn’t eye contact like there had been with the Black Lion, but she was coming right for him. Who else could she be coming for? Nevertheless, Alfor didn’t get his hopes up again. He couldn’t deal with that rejection again.

 

The Blue Lion stayed to the right of Alfor, he was no longer in her direct path. She was aligned with the back of him. He looked to see who she could possibly be heading towards. 

 

“ _ Oh, _ ” Alfor said as the Blue Lion laid down before Coran. The Blue Lion’s Paladin is daring, determined, and swift on their feet. Alfor couldn’t think of anyone better for the job. 

 

Coran just stared at the Lion, dumbfounded. He never thought about being a Paladin like most children do on Altea. He always thought he would just be the King’s advisor and hear about battles second hand. Part of him swelled with pride as he could soar above his rank. Part of him cringed at the thought of him obtaining a Lion while the  _ Prince _ had yet to be chosen. He looked over to Alfor, unsure.

 

Alfor’s face had a range of emotions scattered across it. More disappointment, joy, admiration, and genuine pride. Alfor, more a friend than a monarch in this moment, nodded to Coran. It was all he needed. Coran bowed to the Lion and received the helmet.

 

The arena was quiet now. The Lions had been coming out one right after the other, as soon as one Lion had chosen, another would come out. But the Yellow Lion stayed in her room. 

 

The Yellow Lion was the reason for this ceremony. In the last battle, the Yellow Lion’s Paladin was killed. He had been Paladin for 70 years, the youngest Paladin ever chosen at the age of 14, member of two full teams. At news of his death, his team members decided to resign. They were all greying and wished to meet their future grandchildren. 

 

Death is the reason many Paladins retire; the fear of it, or succumbing to it.  

 

Alfor watched the door with sympathy. He understood why she would be reluctant to chose another Paladin. She had been with the last one for so long. Alfor wondered if the Lions felt grief for their lost Paladins as they did for lost pets. 

 

There was a humming in his ears as he stared into the darkness within the Yellow Lion’s cave. It buzzed so loudly, he looked around to see if anyone else was hearing it. They weren’t; they were all doing their own thing to pass the time while the Yellow Lion stayed put. 

 

Coran fiddled with his new bayard, trying to figure how to work it, and wondering if his head will ever fit inside the helmet. In the corner of his eye, he saw movement. When he turned to look, Alfor was walking towards the Yellow Lion’s door. 

 

“Alfor?” Coran wanted to go after him, but something, or someone, told him not to. He acknowledged the Blue Lion’s suggestion and stayed put, just watching the Prince walk towards the Yellow Lion. 

 

All the eyes were back on the Prince, though, he didn’t feel their gazes this time. He ignored them fully. His attention was on the buzzing and the whispers and the crying. He heard sobbing, was that sobbing? Sounds of anguish and grief. Sounds of someone who just lost a friend.

 

Alfor was about ten feet away from the door and halted. Names, he heard names. He heard death. He heard sweet goodbyes. Tears stained his cheeks, he was almost blinded by them. It felt good to cry.

 

Alfor knelt before the door and held his hand out, palm facing towards the sky. 

 

A pin dropped in the sand could have been heard. No one moved. No one breathed.

 

Screeching of metal against metal broke the thick silence, Golden eyes glowed within the room. The Yellow Lion’s head came out slowly, timidly. She then nudged Alfor’s hand, rubbing her face on his arm, on his chest, on him. He held her head in his arms as tightly as possible. 

 

The crowd cheered for Alfor, loud and ecstatic. The King’s voice boomed over them. “THE LIONS HAVE CHOSEN THEIR PALADINS!” The Paladins were all beaming with pride. It was their honor. “Onward to the feast!”

 

The arena flushed out, everyone leaving to their own feasts waiting at home. Only nobility and the Paladins could attend the one in the castle. The Lions retreated as well, their jobs were over until training. The Yellow Lion presented Alfor with his helmet and bayard, nudged him one more time, then left. 

 

It was all so quick, Alfor’s head was still humming. A hard slap on the back brought him back to reality. Coran was beaming at him, his smile taking up his entire face.

 

“See, I told you you had nothing to worry about!” His hand was still on Alfor’s back. “And the Yellow Lion… The Lion of compassion and will,” His smile dissolved, becoming more sincere, and relaxing Coran’s face. Alfor liked it better when he smiled like this. “I couldn’t have chosen it better, myself.”

 

His smile was infectious, Alfor grinned and wiped away his tears. “And you’re the Blue Lion’s Paladin. She made a perfect choice.”

 

Coran flushed. “You’re just saying that because I’m your advisor.”

 

“I’m not. You are the most daring person I know.”

 

Coran’s face burned, he couldn’t look Alfor in the eye.

 

“You know, I’m your equal now…” He grinned. 

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Alfor wrapped his arm around Coran’s shoulder and squeezed him close. “Let’s go eat, Paladin.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Alfor tried to loosen his collar but it was stitched to be close to his neck. “I don’t understand why you insist on going on walks  _ outside _ during the summer. It’s like an oven out here!”

 

Coran laughed. “An oven is a dry heat. This heat is 80% humidity.” 

 

“Even worse.” Alfor found the seam and tugged at it, opening the shirt down to his collar bone. “I severely hope my future wife doesn’t want to go on walks like these.”

 

Coran straightened up. They never discussed conquests before. They never discussed the very real reality of Alfor getting married and continuing his line. He’d like to think it just never came up, but he knew he avoided the topic fully. Alfor has since been able to take over the throne for two years. It’s better to be prepared for the day than get a late start.

 

“Future wife, eh? Have you picked someone out already?” He tried to joke, he tried to laugh. The subject couldn’t go away fast enough.

 

Alfor blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “N-No, nothing like that! I just,” All bashfulness faded from demeanor. “Father came to my room last night while I was reading… He said it was time for me to begin looking for a wife…”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Coran chuckled. “And what are you looking for in this lucky lady?” Every bit Coran forced out drained him. 

 

“Oh, um… I’m not really sure, actually.” Alfor looked down at his feet as they walked. “I guess… someone intelligent… Someone I can talk to…. Someone… I have chemistry with-”

 

Genuinely, Coran laughed; snorted actually, and belted out a huge laugh from his stomach.

 

Alfor jumped in surprise. “What? What’s so funny about that?”

 

Coran raised an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re not going to find that in an arranged marriage for power and diplomacy. You hardly get to pick who shows up at your door.” 

 

“Father said I could send invitations to the women I find interesting!”

 

“Yes you will, that doesn’t mean they’ll be a match. They could lie on the resumes, you know.”

 

Alfor was speechless. Before last night, he wasn’t even worried about finding a wife, and now all his hope of finding someone he could tolerate was being crushed. He pouted and crossed his arms.

 

“What you want is a friend, and, unfortunately, these kinds of marriages don’t produce friendships, they produce heirs.”

 

“Well then,” Alfor said. “If that is the case, I will have a wife to produce an heir and I will have you for everything else.”

 

Coran blushed and turned his face away. “I sound like your mistress.” He muttered under his breath.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing! I just- uh, I,” Coran’s face burned even hotter. “I just rue the day you marry a Princess.”

 

Alfor blinked, stopping in his tracks. Coran stopped three paces ahead of him. “Why’s that?” 

 

Coran was silent, he couldn’t say it, he didn’t know how to. He needed to say something. His chest felt like it was going to burst. Now was not the time for feelings, not the time for confessions. 

 

A bright smile broke on his face. His cheeks looked like they ached. “Because then you’ll be too distracted to pilot the Yellow Lion!”

 

Alfor laughed. “Is that what this is about?” He slapped Coran on the back. “I think my heart is big enough to handle it all!”

 

Coran tried to laugh again; it came out strangled. “It’s a good thing humility isn’t necessary to pilot the Yellow Lion.”

 

“I can be humble and still love myself, Coran! They’re not mutually exclusive!”

 

“Of course you can, Your Highness.”

 

Alfor cocked his head to the side. “Your Highness? I… thought we were speaking as Paladins.”

 

_ As equals _ , Coran thought.  _ Equals…  _ “We are- I just- force of habit, I guess.”

 

Alfor’s eyes narrowed. “You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” There were no secrets between them, there never has been.

 

“Of course I would, Alfor.”

 

Alfor had a smile. “I know what’ll cheer you up.”

 

Coran’s eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

 

He hummed a smooth tune, a low tune, his eyes lowering slightly. He started to sing. “Don’t be so blue~. There’s always room for you~. You are my brightness and my rightness~.”

 

Coran giggled, it was a popular song playing on every station of radio. It was a love song, of course, everyone was humming its melody. It was catchy, it was popular, it was current, a love song doesn’t mean anything. 

 

“Alfor! Be quiet!” He said, trying to stop his laughing.

 

Alfor’s smile only grew as his voice got louder.

  
  


* * *

 

The room was dim and warm. Coran had a fire going. He prefered to curl up to the fire when he read, the artificial lights strained his eyes. He was trying desperately to think of anything but the parade of princesses who would meet Alfor tomorrow. They had both gone through all the resumes that were available, but there was an uncertainty that came with arranged marriages. There could be a woman whose only motivation is to gain power and status. They could be letting in an assassin. All these women who looked magnificent on paper could turn out to be hideous. 

 

Coran almost wished for it. 

 

The door open and made Coran’s heart leap, jumping up looking over at Alfor, standing there in his pajamas, hair tousled and eyes wide.

 

“Alfor? What’s wrong?” Coran asked, jumping over the side of his couch. “Do we need to get suited up?”   
  


“No, no,” Alfor muttered. He was breathing heavily, his chest felt raw and cold. “I’m just- Coran- Tomorrow!”

 

“What about tomorrow?” Coran asked.

 

“I-I’m going to be meeting  _ princesses _ .”

 

“So?”

 

Alfor went up to Coran and gripped his biceps. “So? What if I make a fool out of myself? What if I insult one of them and they get upset and I accidently enact an act of war?! What if I hate all of them? What if all of them hate  _ me _ ?!”

 

“Shhhh,” Coran lulled, pulling Alfor over to his bed to sit him down. He pulled Alfor off, freeing his hands to rub Alfor’s in an attempt to calm him down. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just be as charming and caring as you normally are and you should be fine,” Coran smiled. “You’ll have all of them falling head over heels for you.”

 

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Coran.  _ I _ have to make a decision,  _ I  _  have to chose her,  _ I _ have to court her,  _ I _ have to-”

 

Alfor went quiet as Coran kissed him. It was so short, so sweet, when Coran pulled away, he wasn’t sure it even happened.

 

Coran caught Alfor’s gaze as he took hold of his hands. 

 

“Trust me.”

 

Alfor’s face felt hot. “I trust you.”

 

Coran smiled a little and pat his hands. “Good. We, uh, should be getting to bed… Big day tomorrow.” Coran stood, even though it was his room. He felt the need to be the one to leave.

 

But Alfor gripped his hands and held him in place. “May I stay with you tonight?”

 

“Your Majesty-”

 

“Speak to me as a Paladin.”

 

Coran sat back down on the bed. Alfor raised his hand to cup Coran’s cheek, on instinct, he leaned into it. Coran’s heart started beating faster. Could he really do this? With his King? Who is about to court a bride? His mind said  _ No.  _ But his heart wasn’t as smart.

 

“Yes.”

  
  
  
  


Alfor woke up to the sun in his eyes.  _ But my room doesn’t face- _ His train of thought was derailed by Coran, bathed and dressed, cloaked in sunlight. He was laying out Alfor’s clothes on the couch facing opposite of the bed. His violet eyes glittered from the sun and his features were softer than usual in the glow. Alfor felt his heart ache.

 

“Good morning,” Coran said, smiling at him. “I thought I would let you sleep in. You have a big day today.”

 

Alfor hummed and sat up. “Do I really have to entertain these princesses? Can’t we just go back to bed?”

 

Coran chuckled. “No, you have an appointment, and I’ll be damned if you’re late on my behalf. Now get dressed.”

 

Alfor groaned and flipped over on his back, he stretched his arms out, gripping the edge of the bed. “But Coraaaan, I don’t waaant to.”

 

Coran smiled and walked over to him, hovering over his upside down face. “I really wish I cared.”

 

“But you do care, you showed me last night.” Alfor grinned as Coran flushed.

 

“Do you have any shame?”

 

“Why would I be ashamed of something like this?”

 

“Because you are to pick a wife.”

 

Alfor sat up, meeting Coran eye to eye. “Not here,” He reached out to take Coran’s hands, pulling him closer to the bed. “Not in this moment. Right now, there’s only us.” Alfor tilted his head up, waiting for a kiss.

 

Coran blushed and leaned in. Alfor smiled and closed his eyes. Quickly, Coran took the blanket and threw it over Alfor’s head.

 

“Hey!” He cried.

 

“Get dressed, you’re due in the throne room.”

  
  
  
  


Coran giggled as the latest princess left the room. Alfor had shown so little interest in the girl, Coran felt sorry for her. She desperately tried to engage in good conversation, telling him about herself and her kingdom. Alfor’s attention was almost completely focused on  _ making _ Coran laugh. He knew it would be a disaster if a princess left too offended. No princess would want to marry a prince enamored with his advisor.

 

“Alfor, if you don't take this seriously, you'll never find a bride!” Coran managed between laughs.  He leaned against the throne where Alfor sat. 

 

Alfor looked him up and down and smiled. “Maybe I don't want a bride.” Coran flushed at his words. “Did you ever think of that, Coran?”

 

“I think of everything, Your Majesty.”

 

The doors to the throne room opened with a loud clattering of locks and effort. Coran jumped back into position, stand up straight, hands behind his back, and away from Alfor. The oak doors parted, opening for the vision walking in. 

 

Her skin was flawless and dark, speckled in freckles. Her hair was a purple hive atop her head, tight ringlets framed her face. She walked in with her chin up and a presence that stole everyone's attention.  

 

Coran knew in that instant Alfor was no longer his. 

 

Alfor’s gaze never deviated from her. As she spoke, he leaned forward, intrigued.

 

“I am Antoniette of Pantheia, daughter of emperor Balthazar, and I am humbled by your invitation, Your Highness.” Antoniette curtsied, but never lowered her head to him. 

 

“And why have you accepted my Invitation, Antoniette? Certainly you've had more enticing offers? Offers closer to home?” Pantheia was 10 systems away. The trip was a trek. Alfor sending the invitation was an act of desperation; her actually coming was an even larger act.

 

She smiled at him, chuckling under her breath. “Well, actually, no, Your Highness. I have a reputation within my solar system that makes me undesirable to most suitors close by. I was actually very shocked when I received your invitation.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“My past suitors have commented on my mouth and my… bearing overshadowing their own.”

 

Alfor smirked. “What sort of weak man would not want a woman with a strong aura on their arm?”

 

Antoinette shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

 

She was perfect. She was perfect for him. Coran had always imagined disliking Alfor’s bride. It would have been so much easier if he could hate her, but he just couldn’t. Her quips were sharp and her humor was smart. Her smile charmed both of them. She was infectious. 

 

They bantered on for what felt like hours, asking actual questions about their lives and status. 

 

“Pantheia was actually a colony of Altea at one point,” Antoinette said. 

 

“Ah… Are you here to rejoin it with Altea?” Alfor asked, smirking at her. She grinned back, about to respond but was interrupted.

 

A servant peeked their head through the doorway. “Prince Alfor, will you be entertaining any more princesses today?” She asked.

 

Alfor looked between the servant and Antoinette; she gave him a look, eyebrows raised with the corner of her mouth up.

 

“No, I won’t be. Thank you, though.” The servant nodded and closed the door. 

 

Antoinette looked Alfor up and down. “Well, are you going to show me to my room?”

 

Alfor pushed himself onto his feet. “I would love to.” He came down from the steps and held his arm out for her to hold.

 

Coran watched them leave, still chatting, never looking away from each other. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Damnit! Courting is hard!” Alfor cried, hunched over his journal in the library. Coran was reading a book. Distraction. He needed to be distracted. “I mean, what am I supposed to do in order to woo someone like  _ Antoinette _ ?”

 

Coran refused to look up from his book. “I have no idea where to start.”

 

Alfor tapped his pen against the table. “She’s just so  _ cultured _ , how do I compete with a prince who arranges  _ stars _ for her? Did you know she was courted by a prince across the nebula? And she turned him down?”

 

“Yes, I know, I was there when she told you.” Coran said through gritted teeth. 

 

Alfor shifted. Coran had been distant. He could feel the disconnect between them “What’s wrong, Coran?”

 

Coran glanced at him. “Nothing, Your Majesty.” 

 

“Speak to me as-”

 

“As a Paladin?” Coran slapped his book shut and threw it on the table. “Well, as a Paladin, I’m angry, Alfor. As a Paladin, I’m  _ hurt _ , Alfor. As a Paladin, I’m heartbroken.” Coran looks him up and down and then stands suddenly. “And you have the nerve to ask me for  _ courting _ advice.”

 

Alfor didn’t look at him, he didn’t want to see Coran’s glare. He just tightened his fist and kept his composure. “You’re my advisor, I asked you to advise.”

 

“ _ Really? _ ” Coran snapped. He was fuming, he was boiling, but he sighed and he resolved. His gaze softened. “I always knew I’d have to give you up. I just wished we had… Or hadn’t… Or… I don’t know… I just wanted to know it wasn’t a mistake… That your feelings weren’t fleeting…” His face was hot. Coran grabbed his book. “I should go.”

 

Coran nearly ran to the door, until Alfor called for him. 

 

“Coran, please, I’m-”

 

Their eyes met for the first time that night. 

 

“No, Your Highness, there’s no need to apologize. We will go on, not like we were… But as friends…. I won’t expect anything, and you won’t have to worry about me. It is my purpose to worry about you, not the other way around.” Coran opened the door.

 

“Coran-”

 

“Alfor, please… Don’t make this any harder.”

 

The door closed behind him, and Alfor stood there. Perhaps that was a mistake. Perhaps it was better that he didn’t go after him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The day was humid and the sun was bearing down on them. Alfor decided that a horse ride on the countryside would be the best way to start his courting. Antoinette could see the beauty in Altea, and Alfor could show off his horse riding skills. He was on his prized horse, Gabriel. Antoinette was borrowing Jasmine, one of Alfor’s mother’s many horses that she left behind.

 

“Jasmine is an unbelievably tame horse,” Alfor said, trotting up beside Antoinette. “She’s a great ride.”

 

Antoinette raised and eyebrow and pet the horse’s neck. “Is she? Can she race?”

 

Alfor laughed. “Race? She’s more of a show horse than anything.”

 

Antoinette raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that? Because she’s a beautiful mare?”

 

“Beautiful, and intelligent, yes.”

 

She leaned over the side of her horse then came back up. “I see four sturdy legs on her,” She looked at Alfor’s horse. “I challenge you to a race.”

 

“A race? Really?”

 

“Yes, and if I win, Jasmine will have her day in the races.”

 

Alfor laughed. “And if I win?”

 

Antoinette smirked. “I’ll tell you a little secret about me.”

 

He smirked. “Alright.”

 

They lined up beside each other. Antoinette leaned in, the leather cracking under her grip. Alfor adjusted himself, determined to win.

 

“To the edge of the woods and back?”

 

“Do you think you can handle that?” Antoinette watched as her comment dug into Alfor.

 

“Ready-”

 

“Set.”

 

“Go!”

 

The horses screamed into the air and were on their way. Aflor started out in front, his horse being less surprised by the sudden kick into action. But Antoinette was not discouraged. Antionette snapped the reins for Jasmine to move faster, and she complied. They were gaining on Alfor, the wood’s edge was coming closer. The turn broke Alfor. His horse took a turn too wide for him to stay in the lead. Jasmine’s turn was sharp and together, they were able to fly ahead. They trotted across the finish line and waited for Alfor to catch up.

  
  


As Alfor caught up, he called out to her. “If the secret is that you’re an amazing horseback rider, you can keep it to yourself.”

 

She giggled and ran her hands through Jasmine’s mane. “No, that’s not what I was going to tell you.”

 

“Well, I guess I’ll never know, now, will I?” He had accepted the fact she would never tell him anything, and stay the mysterious princess from a far off planet.

 

Antoinette smiled and turned her head, as if she was trying to hide it. She pulled her horse to be side by side with Alfor’s, so that they were facing each other.  Alfor felt her cold hand slip over his cheek, it felt nice against his burning skin. She pulls his face closer to him so she can place a soft kiss on his cheek. Alfor’s mouth hung open as she pulled away from him. 

 

“I wouldn’t say you’ll  _ never  _ know.”

 

“Can I get a consolation secret then?”

 

She laughed, tilting her head back as she did so. “I don’t think that was part of the deal.”

 

Alfor pouted and opened his eyes wide. “But would you do it for me?”

 

Antoniette rolled her eyes. “My favorite flower is the Glass Delilah… It’s a flower that only grows on my planet…” She turned her face away again, so she wouldn’t be heard. “I’m going to miss them.”

 

_ She would be living in Altea, if she were queen, _ Alfor thought.

 

“Why don’t we head back to the castle? I can show you the gardens. I know they won’t replace the Delilahs, but I’m sure you’ll like Altean flowers.”

 

She nodded, reassuring him, and herself. “Yes, I’d like that.”

 

* * *

  
  


Coran’s hands were clasped over Antoinette’s eyes. She was walking with her hands  out, to feel anything in front of her. 

 

“I don’t understand why you have to have your hands over my eyes! Wouldn’t a blindfold suffice?”

 

“But this is so much more fun! Don't you want a good friend to hold uncomfortable contact with your face for a prolonged period of time?” Coran said guiding her down the hallway to a large door. Her fingertips reached it first, flattening on it. He took his hands away when she was face to face with the door. 

 

Her eyebrows raised. “Am I supposed to go in there?”

 

“That’s the idea!”

 

She grinned and rolled her eyes, opening the door. Inside was an enormous banquet table filled with food. Alfor was standing at the back grinning wide. As she stepped in, she realized every dish on the table was from Pantheia, it smelled like home. She recognized foods she grew up on, the stews, the vegetables, and staples such as the dark breads and savoury pastries. Anything and everything she could think of sat back to back in front of her.

 

“Alfor… this is…”

 

“All the national foods of Pantheia, all the street foods I could find, the culturally significant ones, and the ones that are so special to Pantheia.” Alfor said. She wandered up to him, inspecting every plate on her way. 

 

Antoniette faced him. She had been away from home for three months, she had started to feel lonely, and yearned for her home planet again. Until she sat down in the Altean dining hall three times a day, she had no idea how different food could be, or how large of a hole it can leave in your heart. 

 

Her eyes filled, blurring her vision. She jumped onto Alfor, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He placed his hands on her waist to hold her. Her face buried into his neck as she cried.

 

Alfor looked to Coran for help, panicking slightly. He hadn’t expected tears. He expected laughter and joy. Coran understood.

 

“Are those happy tears, madam?” Coran called, making his way to them. 

 

Antoniette sniffled and brought her head up to look at Coran, eyes puffy, cheeks stained, and nonse running. But she smiled a whole, real smile. 

 

“They are such happy tears, Coran.” She laughed, which only made the tears fall faster and her breathing hiccup. “I’m so homesick…” She laughed, and hiccuped again. 

 

Alfor shifted, tightening his grip on her. “You can go home if you don’t want to be here…” He said, without thinking. He wants her to be happy. He  _ only  _ wants her to be happy.

 

She pushed herself away slightly, just so she could see him. “No… I want to stay here…. I want to stay with you....”

 

They looked at each other, feeling the weight of what she just said. Alfor leaned in and kissed her, pulling her back to the close proximity they had before.

 

Coran cleared his throat, breaking the two apart. “How about we dig into this feast before it gets cold, eh?”

 

“Marvellous idea,” Antoinette said, detaching herself and sitting down in the closest seat to her. She hadn’t a care in the world once she started shoveling food onto her plate.

 

Alfor was pulling out his own chair when Coran placed a hand on his arm and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Sir, Zarkon sent in his report from the outer solar system, I think you should read it as soon as possible.”

 

“Not  _ now _ , Coran. Talk to me  _ after _ dinner.” Alfor whispered back. His face cracked into a smile as he sat down to continue a conversation with Antoinette. Coran sighed and forwarded the files to Alfor, labeled URGENT.

 

* * *

  
  


Antoinette leaned in, reading the plaque in front of her. “Armeanies the Honest… Is this your grandfather?” She asked. They had just turned down a long hallway lined with portraits. Next to Armeanies was Alfor’s father. 

 

“Yes, actually.” Alfor stood in front of his grandfather’s portrait. His family told him that he always looked like Armeanies. Alfor could see the resemblance. They had the same strong jaw and eyes. “I never got to meet him, though. He died before I knew him.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be, I’ve heard he was a good man,” Alfor smiled and took her hand. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He pulled her further down the hall.

 

Antoinette watched the portraits they passed, a strange timeline counting backwards to the moment of the Kingdom of Altea’s conception. The oldest was made with oil based paints, faded with time and only preserved after it had worn some. The man in the picture had brown hair and s ilver eyes. His look varied from the Alteans of today. 

 

_ Looks how far we’ve come,  _  Antoinette thought. 

 

At the end of the hall, there were two doors towering over them.  They matched in extravagance, swirling patterns climbed the length, accented in various metallic tones.

 

“I feel like your surprises are always behind closed doors.” Antoinette says, giggling slightly.

 

Alfor chuckled. “Yeah… you could say that…” He opened the one to the left and gestured for her to head in.

 

The room was a soft pink,  wide open with the bed placed dead center. There was a balcony , a sitting area, and a full bathroom attached. 

 

“This is the queen's suite… my mother stayed here while she was queen.”

 

Antoinette looked around. “It's beautiful.” She hummed, walking about, until her eyes spotted a silhouette in the window. Her curiosity was piqued, and she went to investigate. 

 

“Is that?” The flower came into view, full and layered. The petals were transparent and curled in a perfect position, glinting in the light. A Glass Delilah.

 

“I went to Pantheia…” Alfor said. He took her hands, squeezing them. “I want you to feel at home here... Because…” He got down on his knee and squeezed her hands harder. “If you are to be my queen, I want you to be able to call Altea your home… I just want to give you everything you want, everything you deserve.” 

 

Antoinette smiled, blinking away the tears that came to her eyes. “Alfor… are you?”

 

“Antoinette, I want you to be my queen. Will you marry me?”

 

She was giggling and smiling uncontrollably. She tried to hide her emotions, like always, but they were cracking through.

 

“Of course I will!”

 

She pulled him up into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck as tightly as possible.

 

“Alfor...” She whispered. Her voice was so soft and quiet, he wasn’t quite sure he heard her. He had never heard that tone in her voice before. Shy, unsure.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want to thank you…”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I…. Never thought anyone would love me like you have.”

 

“But people have arranged the stars for you? I merely brought you a flower.”

 

“The stars were a status symbol. He could have done that for anyone. A Glass Delilah… That is only for me… I feel…. Like I’ve fallen in love with a friend.”

 

* * *

 

Voltron fell apart as the Yellow Lion detached itself.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Alfor?!” Zarkon screamed through the intercom

 

Alfor rode out the shift from Leg to Lion shape, immediately landing on the ground. Next to him, the rest of the team landed their own Lions. When Alfor disembarked, he was faced with Zarkon, angry and already snarling.

 

“What the hell was that, Alfor? We were in the middle of a strategy! Why did you just break off?!”

 

“The strategy had us destroying the planet.” Alfor’s voice was low and still. He was careful with his words.

 

“So?! It’s an enemy planet!” Zarkon barked back. 

 

“So? There were women and children on the planet.”

 

“It was a simulation!”

 

“A simulation to prepare us for real situations. And I didn’t agree with it. I don’t think any of us agreed with it. They were just following  _ your _ orders.”

 

Zarkon growled and got into Alfor’s face, their armour clashed and kept him at a small distance. 

 

“Voltron is not a democracy. I don’t care who you think you are outside of Voltron, but you are a  _ leg _ ; I am the head. I lead Voltron.”

 

Alfor’s face never broke. “Are you done?”

 

Zarkon pushed Alfor with his chest. He stumbled back, but never lost his bearing or composure. Zarkon stomped away, furious. 

 

Coran watch the encounter, and Zarkon storming away. A chill scraped down his spine. “Alfor, you shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“He thinks he’s in the right, Coran.” 

 

“Well, he’s the head of Voltron. He has to believe he’s right.”

 

Alfor was silent, watching Zarkon’s rampaging exit.

 

“Alfor-”

 

“He wants to take the crown away from me.”

 

They shared a silence. 

 

“You… Don’t know that.” Coran said. 

 

“Don’t be naive, Coran.” Alfor said, turning away. “I want him investigated.”

 

“Alfor, that will look terrible if anyone finds out.”

 

“Then make sure no one finds out.” Alfor began to walk off. He needed to strip his armour, he needed something to clear his head.

 

“Paladins are supposed to trust each other!” Coran said, calling after Alfor, regretting it instantly. He didn’t trust Zarkon either. Maybe he was just furious at the notion that he  _ couldn’t _ trust Zarkon, his Voltron leader. Maybe he was furious that his two leaders clashed, knowing one day, one of them will have to give.

 

“I will not reciprocate something I was never given.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“To the bride and groom! To our new king and queen!” Coran called across the courtyard.  His knees were weak, they shook, barely holding him up. His arm was extended, his raised glass  offered to the couple. He was in his Paladin armor; tonight, he would not serve. Tonight, he was a guest of the king. 

 

“I have know Alfor for many years. Through adolescence, as a Paladin, as a man. And never have I seen him so happy as the day he met Antoinette,” the words caught in his throat. If he cried,  people would see them as happy tears. “He has been smiling ever since,” Coran’s smile was stale and forced. 

 

“Antoinette, in all honesty, I was skeptical about the courting process, I never thought Alfor would find anyone as perfect as you through a series of resumes,” His smile grew slightly, honesty peering through. “I’m so happy he found  _ you,  _ though. You are the Queen that Altea needs, that Alfor needs. Thank you for choosing us to grace with your presence. Long live the King and Queen.”

 

The guests cheered after his speech, clanking their glasses together. Coran locked eyes with Alfor and took a sip of his drink. Alfor grinned and took a drink as well. 

 

It wasn’t long before Coran was at the bar, hunched over the counter, gripping his glass. He planned on using the open bar to its fullest extent. 

 

“That speech was so sappy, I almost cried!” It was Lori, the Red Paladin. She was in red pants, with a matching red blazer and a plain white shirt underneath. Coran remembered her refusing to wear her uniform.  _ “I’m not wearing my armour to a wedding! That shit is heavy enough during battle! And I can’t dance in it!” _

  
  


Coran chuckled. “You  _ were _ crying, I saw you.”

 

“You saw me crying? Now I have to kill you. Everyone knows I’m an emotionless monster.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but Coran wasn’t laughing, he was barely smiling.

 

She sat next to him and ordered a drink of her own. She studied Coran’s face for a moment before sighing. “You can’t live your life like this.”

 

“Like what? I’m just taking advantage of the open bar at my best friend’s wedding.”

 

“You can’t spend your life drinking away every major life event.”

 

“Fine. I’ll just get shit faced tonight, and that will hold me off for the rest of my life.”

 

“Coran, I’m  _ trying _ to be serious.”

 

“And so am I.” He shot back his glass, downing the remaining bit of his drink and tapped the counter, ordering another.

 

“So you’re just going to live your life pining after someone you can’t have? What kind of life is that?”

 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t drink. He just rubbed the rim of his glass.

 

“You have to forgive him-”

 

“I already have.”

 

“Then you have to stop being so petty. It’s disgraceful and not how a Paladin should act.”

 

Coran muttered into his glass. “Why does everyone throw ‘Paladin’ in my face?”  _ Am I really so low that I must be reminded of the blessing that the Lion gave me? _

 

“I’m just saying, maybe you should find someone else? Start a family of your own? Be happy?”

 

Coran swirled his glass, watching his reflection distort in the the brown liquid. Every sip he takes washes away the white prickles in his chest that burn every time he thinks of the far off night he and Alfor spent together. With just the right amount of alcohol, he could think of that night without the pain and without the heartbreak.

 

“Do you know how hard it is? Swallowing your heart?”

 

“It hurts… I know…”

 

“That’s an understatement.”

 

Silence brewed between them, awkwardness festered. Coran looked back at Alfor and Antoinette, sitting close, their heads together. He was singing in her ear, Coran could hear it from where he sat.

 

“Want to get plastered?”

 

“Please.”

 

* * *

  
  


“Coran, may I speak with you?” Antoinette asked, her voice quiet. She had been quiet lately. Her fingernails wracked against the fabric of her sleeves, pulling apart the loose threads.

 

He stopped in his tracts and swivelled on his heels to face her. “Of course you can! What seems to be the matter?”

 

Her gaze was down, she didn’t want to look up at him, she didn’t know if she could. “C-Coran… I’m pregnant.”

 

Coran gasped, grinning ear to ear. “That’s wonderful! Oh! How far along? You can’t be that long! Oh, Alfor must be so excited-”

 

“That’s the thing,” Her eyes were closed, as if she was in pain. “He doesn’t know yet.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Just as I said, I haven’t told him yet.”

 

“But why not? He’s your husband! He’s the  _ father _ . Isn’t this a little unorthodox? Shouldn’t the father know before anyone else?” Coran gasped again. “Unless  _ I’m _ the father!”

 

“Coran, you are  _ not  _ the father!” Antoinette said through a giggle. Coran’s goal was to make her smile, and he succeeded

 

“Well, that’s a damn shame, I would be a great father!”

 

That joke didn’t land. 

 

“I need you to be serious for just a second, Coran...Please.” In that moment, Coran felt their titles comes between them. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. “I need you to be both advisor and friend.”

 

“Anything, my Queen.”

 

She had to remind herself to breathe, but they were shallow, labored breaths. “I’m afraid… I feel like we’re going to be thrown into a war, and our biggest weapon has the father of my child in it.” She let out a whine as her eyes started to sting.

 

“We aren’t going to war. Alfor doesn’t agree with Zarkon- we don’t need to expand, especially if it means fighting.” 

 

“I know, Alfor has told me that, but I just have this wretched feeling… And I’m just so scared my daughter is going to grow up without a father.” Her voice cracked, she placed her hand over her mouth to conceal it.

 

“Daughter?” Coran was dumbfounded.  _ A little girl, Alfor’s having a little girl. _

 

Antoinette was able to crack a fleeting smile. “I have another feeling,” She sniffled, her nose starting to run. Coran reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her. She dabbed her eyes with it. “I need you to make me a promise, Coran.”

 

“Anything, Antoinette.”

 

“I need you to be there for my daughter, no matter what happens to Alfor, I need you to be right there for her.”

 

They share a look of desperation. Antoinette was begging him, she was so vulnerable in this moment. But she was comfortable being this vulnerable with him. Maybe their status didn’t matter.

 

“You are my Queen, Alfor is my King, and she will be my Princess. I will protect her with my life.”

 

Antoinette started crying harder and laughing and smiling all at once. She lept into Coran’s arms and hugged him tightly.  “Thank you so much, Coran. Thank you,  _ thank you _ !” He squeezed her.

 

“You’re welcome, my Queen.” He pats her on the back and broke the hug. “Now, let’s go tell the father.”

 

She grinned and took his hand. “Yes, let’s.”

 

* * *

 

The air had cleared of screams and death and birth. Only an hour ago, Antoinette let out her final wail, while Allura screamed her first scream. Alfor was still, so still. He had a tiny, sleeping child in his arms. He was watching her, he had been watching her her whole life. Coran was standing not too far from the king, watching him watch the child. He hasn't said anything. What does he say?  What could he say? He  _ had  _ to say  _ something _ . 

 

“Is it possible to have multiple loves in one lifetime, Coran?" For a brief moment, Coran wondered if Alfor could have meant him, but Coran knew he did not. Even though, partially, he did mean him. 

 

"I loved Antoinette so much. She held my heart so gently... She was the brightest star in my sky... And she's gone. Not in a flash...  Not in a blaze... But in a swell that didn’t quite resolve correctly.  She faded before I could say goodbye. And now. I have this child,” Alfor held his breath to hold back the sudden rush of emotion. “I've fallen in love instantly,” he let out a stale chuckle. “But I can't see past the fact I traded Antoinette for her. The day she came into my life, Antoinette left me. I don't know how I will ever forgive her. I don't know how I will ever look at her and not resent her.  I don't know how I could ever not love her as much as I do." He brought the baby closer to himself as an attempt to bring himself back into the moment where she is just small and new.

 

The door opened. The wet nurse came into the room, muttering something about the baby needing to be fed. She approached the king with her head down. “Sir… She has to eat…. And she should be sleeping in her cradle….” 

 

“Just… give me a few more minutes.” Alfor begged, not taking his eyes off the child. There was a fleeting thought that if he took his eyes off her for just a second, she’d disappear.

 

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I must take her.” The wet nurse forced herself to talk back to her King. She pried the baby from his arms and took her from the room.

 

Coran watched her leave, and when the door shut, he fell to his knees in front of his king, bowing his head. "You will never be rid of those feelings,  sir-"

 

"Then what do I do, Coran?" He was desperate, defeated. 

 

"You have to love her fiercely and well. Don't see her as a trade- it wasn't Antoinette for her. Antoinette  _ gave _ her to you. She was the very last thing she could have given you, don't waste her gift." 

 

Alfor started sobbing, so hard he shook. Coran was right. He had to celebrate Antoinette and her sacrifice, not harbor an unwarranted grudge against his own child. For hours, they sat together and cried, Alfor retelling their love. Coran listened thoroughly, even to the parts he experienced first hand. He even corrected Alfor on the little details, the ones they could laugh at.  

  
  


The sky was black and the stars twinkled bright, Coran suddenly felt there was nothing more to say. They recounted everything until that day. He stood to leave, but Alfor grabs his hand, stopping him. Deja vu hit Coran. He looked at Alfor, but he doesn't look up. 

 

“Stay with me tonight.”

 

Coran felt his heart in his throat. They haven’t spent the night together since the night before Antoinette. And now, it’s the night after Antoinette.

 

“Sir, I don't think I can do that… It doesn’t seem… Right.” 

  
  


“ _ Please _ , Coran, don't leave me alone. Not now, not tonight.”

 

 

The room was hot in the morning sun. Coran gripped the pillow under his head. He thought about his promise to Antoinette, he thought about the birth, he thought the events of last night. Guilt wracked his stomach. He didn’t regret it in the slightest; the timing was the problem.

 

Coran felt a kiss on his shoulder. “Are you awake?” Alfor asked, his voice low and soft.

 

“I am.”

 

“How are you feeling this morning?”

 

“I’m… not sure… A lot is on my mind.”

 

“I understand… Care to share?”

 

Coran sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m going to retire as Paladin.”

 

Alfor bolted up. “What?! You can’t do that! You can’t just give away the Blue Lion!”

 

Coran sat up and turned to face Alfor. Coran noticed the subtle lines forming on his face, the bags under his eyes, his everso slightly thinning hair.  _ When did we get so old? _

 

“I made a promise to Antoinette.... When she first told me she was pregnant. I promised I would keep her child safe, and I can’t do that from the leg of Voltron. Especially if you’ll be there beside me,” Coran locked eyes with Alfor. “I’m sorry, Alfor, but I cannot break a promise to my Queen.”

 

Alfor didn’t respond at first. All he did was pull Coran into a tight hug, their bodies close, feeling the heat from the other.

 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Alfor asked into the crook of Coran’s neck. He didn’t answer, he hugged Alfor back as tight as he could.

 

* * *

  
  


Allura screamed at the top of her lungs, flailing her little arms every which way, grabbing at Coran’s clothes. They were in the hall, Coran trying to shush her. He normally kept her cuddled to his chest in a sling. She was normally quiet during council meetings.

 

“Allura, what’s wrong, sugar plum? Why so cranky?” He tried everything: feeding, burping, changing, but nothing calmed her. He tickled her stomach with little success. She just screamed even louder. 

 

The council let out, the briefing was finished. On the council members’ way out, they all took a look at Allura, some even trying to cheer her up themselves. Jace took off his glasses and went cross eyed trying to make her laugh, puffing out his now hollow cheeks. 

 

“Thanks mate, but I don't think it's working.” Coran said. 

 

Jace pouted at his failed efforts. “The kid’s got no taste in comedy.” They shared a laugh as Jace left them to check on the progress of his newest project. 

 

Zarkon passed with only a glimpse. Coran could have sworn he saw disgust in his eyes. 

 

Alfor came out last, looking slightly frustrated. Once his eyes landed on Allura though, he was smiling wide. “Where's my cranky little angel?” he cooed, taking her from Coran’s arms. 

 

“Angel? Yeah, right. She's been screaming her head off for an hour.” Coran said, watching Alfor bounce the noisy bundle. Alfor cooed at her, wiggling his fingers in front of her face, trying to hold her attention. She would stop and watch his fingers, still sniffling. Then, without warning, she would burst into tears again. “Come on, love, smile…”

 

Alfor began to hum, rocking Allura to a beat. He started to sing. “Hush little princess, don’t you scream, I’m gonna give you some blueberry cream. And if that blueberry cream’s not sweet, I’m gonna get you something neat. And if that something won’t impress, I’m gonna give you a brand new dress. If that brand new dress won’t twirl, daddy’s gonna give you the whole wide world.”

 

Coran smiled as Allura’s cries dimmed throughout the song. Alfor was lost in Allura’s little face.

 

“I haven’t heard you sing in a long time, sir.”

 

Alfor didn’t look up, he just continued to stare at Allura like she was the only one in the world. “I only sing to those I love.”

 

* * *

  
  


Allura sat by the door to the council room. She waited for her father and Coran to come out so they would play with her. They said she couldn’t sit in today - she didn’t remember a meeting she didn’t sit in on.

 

But then she heard shouting, screaming actually. Curiosity took Allura over as she pressed her ear against the door. Muffled shadows of voices came through.

 

“We  _ cannot _ take Cree! We have a treaty! We are not ruining alliances for your need for power!” 

 

“We’re  _ weak _ ! We need to expand! This Kingdom will be conquered if we don’t grow!”

 

“Altea is not on the edge of war like you think we are!”

 

The shouting stopped, there was only a quiet, “Oh, really?”

 

The door slid open, Allura fell forward. Zarkon growled and pushed her out of his way with his foot. She slid further into the room.

 

“Zarkon!” Alfor yelled, furious. Coran picked up Allura and held her close. Allura whined in Coran’s ear and clung to him. Alfor rounded the table, charging at Zarkon, who was already down the hall.

 

Coran caught his arm, stopping him. 

 

“Don’t... it will only make this worse.”

 

“He should have thought of that before laying a hand on my daughter.” Alfor yanked his arm away and left the room; he didn’t go after Zarkon. He just needed to be alone, he need to think about what was to come.

 

* * *

 

“Father, you’re not doing it right, you’re not playing by the  _ rules _ !” Allura cried, snatching the dolls out of Alfor’s hands.

 

He gasped. “How am I not playing by the rules?”

 

Allura puffed her cheeks out and held up her doll. “This is Donna! She’s sad because her wife is all the way over there!” She pointed to the dollhouse on the other side of the room. “She can’t go on a date with Charles! She has a wife!”

 

“Well, then Coran shouldn’t have been so suggestive as Charles!” Alfor said, looking over at Coran who held the Charles doll with much respect. He gasped as he was blamed, Charles threw his head back in shock.

 

“Donna wouldn’t have said yes! You’re not allowed to play any more!” Allura announced.

 

Alfor let out a chuckle. “I’m not allowed to play anymore?”

 

“No! You’re on-” Her train of thought halted. Her head snapped to Coran. “What was that word I learned yesterday?”

 

“Probation?”

 

“Yes! You’re on protation, Father!”

 

Alfor huffed and stood up. “Fine! I’ll just go sit on your bed.” He said, going to her bed and sitting carefully.

 

“Not on Mr. Stuffens and Goldie!” Allura called in warning. No one could crush the lion and the blonde doll.

 

“I won’t sit on them!” Alfor assured.

 

Allura watched him for a moment then turned back to her doll house, commencing her game with only Coran, who played by the rules.

 

After a while, Allura looked up from her dolls at Coran, first making sure her father was asleep. “Coran? Could you tell me about Mother?”

 

Coran’s ears perked up. “Your mother? Hasn’t your father talked about her?”

 

She strokes her doll’s hair, playing with the individual strands. “He has, but every time he does, he starts to cry… Then he’s sad and then  _ I’m _ sad… I just want to hear about her and be happy.”

 

“Well, then!” Coran announced, placing his own doll on the ground and scooping Allura up, plopping her down on his lap. “Uncle Coran has just the stories about your dear mother! She was just like you, you know!”

 

Allura’s eyes lit up. “She was?!”

 

“Of course! She was beautiful, and smart, and a trouble maker, just like you!” Coran pinched Allura’s nose closed and wiggled it around a bit. Allura giggled and swatted his hands away.

 

“What else?!” She was bouncing in his lap, so excited.

 

Coran tapped his chin with his finger for a second. “She was a bold speaker,” He said, remembering her first day at the castle. “She had many suitors before your father-”

 

“What?! Really?! Mother and Father weren’t love at first sight?”

 

“I never said that! I simply said they were not each other’s first conquests! But, I assure you, they were love at first sight.”

 

“Coran, what does conquests mean?”

 

“In this context, it means love interest.”

 

“Oh… How do you  _ know _ it was love at first sight?’

 

Coran smiled because he could smile at the memory now. “I was there. Your mother made a charging entrance, and your father was in love instantly.”

 

“Woooow. Mother sounds  _ amazing _ ! Do you think I could ever be like her?” Allura was still bouncing, excitement lit her eyes. She was holding her breath.

 

“Allura, I think you’re going to grown up to be just like your mother.”

 

* * *

  
  


Coran knocked on Alfor’s door. The weight of his tablet felt unbearable. He hated being the one who had to bring bad news.

 

“Come in.”

 

Coran opened the door to find Alfor at his desk, hunched over and tired. The room was dark besides the one bulb hanging over Alfor’s head. The king looked up from his work and smiled. “You’ve never knocked on my door before.”

 

“I know… I felt it was necessary….”

 

Alfor’s smile faded. “What happened now?”

 

Coran handed Alfor his tablet, a wedding photo was sat in the middle of it. 

 

“Zarkon married Zehara, the princess of Galra yesterday.” Coran said, it was almost a whisper. 

 

“He’s got his kingdom.” Alfor said, staring at the picture. 

 

“Now it’s a waiting game, isn’t it?” Coran asked. 

 

Alfor looked up at him. “I will not give him the satisfaction of us striking first,” He straightens his back. “We will not be painted in a light that makes us look paranoid. We will wait.”

 

“I think that is best, sir.”

 

Alfor tossed the tablet on his desk and rubbed his temples. He needed to breathe. He need to relax. He needed to be calm. Alfor felt hands knead his shoulders, pressing and twisting the knots that had formed.  He moans softly and leans into the hands, sitting back in his chair. 

 

Coran moved his hands over his collarbone and onto his chest, rest his chin on Alfor’s head. Alfor fit perfectly in his arms, he felt calm, he felt relaxed.

 

“When did life become so taxing, Coran?” Alfor asked, focusing on the heat of Coran’s chest.

 

“It’s hard to say… I’ve never really thought about it like that.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah… I’ve always seen events like this as just another curve in the road… It may be in a different direction, but you continue on the path. You don’t continue straight because that’s not where life is taking you.”

 

Alfor took Coran’s left hand and kissed it softly. “That’s beautiful, Coran.” He gripped his hands tighter. He closed his eyes and felt his wavering consciousness. “Will you be staying with me tonight?”

 

“Only if you’ll have me.”

 

“Of course I’ll have you.”

 

* * *

 

The years of peace ticked by. No wars were waged, and Zarkon remained a sight unseen. Coran watched as Galra grew, they seemed to thrive under Zarkon’s rule. Their military became stronger and stronger with each year: service was no longer voluntary, six years per able bodied citizen. Allura had began her explicit training to become queen when they were at their peak. At their peak, they came for Altea.

 

The Altean fleet didn’t stand a chance against their numbers or their strategy. Zarkon always had a mind for tactical advantages. 

 

Altea fell into burning ash, the skies turning orange and cloudy. Allura watched everything she knew crumble.

 

“Father, we cannot give up hope!” She cried, desperate. He had to save her home, he had to save her world.

 

“If everything goes well, I will see you soon.” Alfor said, sending a jolt through his daughter's neck. She fell into his arms like dead weight. He pulled her close, feeling the ache in his heart.  _ I have to do it,  _ he thought.

 

“Coran, help me get her into cryosleep.” 

 

They lifted her and propped her up inside the tube. Coran set her tube to open with a motion sensor. She froze, slack jaw and blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. Alfor contacted the Paladins, telling them to hide their Lions as far away as they could think of. They took off, leaving streaks of their respective colors. The castle shook again, making them lose their footing.

 

“Sir, what are we doing next?” Coran asked.

 

Alfor sighed and placed his hands on Coran’s shoulders. “Go with her.”

 

Coran jerked back. “What?! I can’t leave you here alone! The Paladins, the army, they’re all gone,” His fists tighten. “I can’t leave you.”

 

Alfor smiles softly at him. “You won’t be leaving me, you’d be going with her.” He pulled Coran into a hug, squeezing him.

 

“You’re letting go of her… You’re letting go of the only one you love again…” Coran said into his chest. His arms snaked around his torso to hold him back.

 

“I was able to say goodbye this time….And she’s not the only one… I love you, too, Coran… I always have.” Alfor pulled away slightly, taking Coran’s chin and tilting his head upward to kiss him. Coran allowed himself to get lost in the kiss, taking advantage of their last moment together. 

 

Coran felt a lurching in his stomach. He pulls away, too soon for the both of them. “Why can’t I stay? I hate the thought of you-”

 

“You can’t leave her alone,” Alfor said, pushing their foreheads together. “You have a promise to keep with another love of mine.”

 

They sighed together. If the castle didn’t shake for a finale time, they wouldn’t have come part. The sounds of war seeping inside the castle drowned out all thoughts, all emotions. Alfor brought up a pod for Coran. He lead him by his hands to the pod, helping him inside. 

 

“Thank you, my friend. For everything you’ve done for me and my family. I wish you luck for what’s to come.”

 

“I will do anything for you, my king.”

 

Coran was looking down at him, his face calm, and, if nothing else, pained. He trusted Alfor, he trusted that he would get the castle to safety. He didn’t trust Zarkon or the measures he planned on taking. He knew Alfor was lying when he said ‘ _ I’ll see you again soon’ _ . He knew. He wish he didn’t.

 

The last thing Coran saw was Alfor closing the pod.

 

* * *

 

Allura’s dreams had her sitting in the mountain range outside the castle. She sat the sun on her skin, reminding herself what Altea felt like. She feared the day where her years without Altea would outnumber the years with. Her dreams helped her connect, helped her believe that Altea was still obtainable. That it was still out there, somewhere.

 

Coran’s dreams were more animated. His Alfor was younger in appearance than Allura’s. He didn’t rest a moment. They fought with swords, Alfor was stationary, of course, they danced, Alfor sang. Coran would only let himself indulge in the AI every so often. There was work to be done. And he had years with Alfor. Allura had only a precious few. She needed to keep his memory alive more than he did. He got his willing goodbye.

 

That doesn’t mean his heart didn’t shatter when Alfor’s hologram disappeared into the background of the imploding star. He was officially gone. No backup, no trace.

  
  


Coran sat in the holochamber against the wall, just watching the socket. He wanted Alfor to pop up, even if it was just a fragment of him. The fragment would still remember. The fragment would still know.

 

The doors slid open, Coran jumped. He could make out Allura’s silhouette in the door frame. 

 

“Good evening, Princess,” Coran called. “What brings you here at this hour?”

 

“Coran…” She said softly. She was worried. He had been spending his nights locked in this room, and no one would have known if Shiro didn’t wake up earlier than him. He caught Coran coming out of the room looking tired and disheveled. When Shiro told her, she was dumbfounded. Allura went and sat next to him, tucking her knees under her chin. “I miss him, too…”

 

Coran didn’t look at her. “It’s my job to listen to you, Princess. Not the other way around.”

 

Allura stretched out her legs and took Coran’s hand into her own, squeezing it. He looked up at her, questioning. She smiled a soft smile at him. He could see both her parents in that smile.

 

“You’re not just my advisor, Coran. I’ve always thought of you as an important part of my family. And family should confide in family.”

 

He squeezed her hand back. “Your father was my greatest love, and since I’ve woken up, I’ve felt like a part of me is missing. I don’t feel complete anymore.”

 

“Love is...tricky… It’s fragile and… I don’t think we’ll ever get over the hole that Father has left…” Her grip got harder as she spoke, until it felt like nothing at all. “But… I think I know how to get past it.”

 

Croan raised an eyebrow, asking her to go on. She stood and pulled him up as well, taking him to the control panel. She placed her hands on it and the dark of the room bubbled into a room that looked like the central command. 

 

Off to their right, voices could be heard, laughing, cheering. Coran watched the new figures.

 

“The Paladins are our family now,” The Paladins were cheering, until they saw the Coran and Allura in the memory, then they charged at them, hugging and laughing alongside them. “They’ll fill the hole… not fully, but in a different way… They’ll love you if you love them back. It’ll feel good to love again.”

 

Coran sniffled, taking out his handkerchief and patting the corner of his eyes with it. “Allura, my darling, I’ve never stopped loving.”

**Author's Note:**

> So? This is my magnum opus right now. I never lost steam while writing and it comes out to be 13,061 words. I love this fic so much. I want to give a special thanks to DaisyMax1196 and my friend Shelby for helping me with the editing process. 
> 
> Also, the Ocs Lori and Vamaal belong to the amazing notllorstel at notllorstel.tumblr.com. They make amazing alforan art and really had an influence on this fic. Please go follow them and reblog all their stuff!
> 
> I have gravity falls, kingsmen, RWBY, and Miraculous Ladybug fics as well. Comment please! Thank you!


End file.
